


Moeity

by bloodscout



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-06
Updated: 2012-04-06
Packaged: 2017-11-03 03:08:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/376443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodscout/pseuds/bloodscout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>April 3rd<br/>	•	moiety  ||  [noun]  ||  one of two equal parts</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moeity

**Author's Note:**

> This is really cliche and a little more angsty than intended but... whatever.

There were days when Gabriel couldn’t be alone. Those where the days when he remembered that his brothers were both in hell, trapped together, tearing each other apart. Because Gabriel could remember when the Earth was brand new, when the three of them looked upon it with nothing short of dumbstruck awe. There was so much colour, so much life, so much potential. That was before their Father created humans, though. Before the Fall. Before Gabriel’s pillars of strength crumbled under the weight of each other. On those days, when Gabriel felt like he was the only one in the whole of God’s creation, Sam was by his side.

Gabriel’s slight vessel shook violently, struggling to contain the power wrapped inside its skin. Inside, it was like Gabriel was trapped in a blender. He was spinning around, cut up and broken apart and lost. He was a delocalised electron, the lost shard of the Dar Crystal, the last of the rings. He was shattered and had lost track of his own pieces. At this moment in time, it was impossible to remember what it had felt like to be whole. He didn’t remember how long he had been lost in himself when Sam found him in the corner of the motel room, catatonic. He didn’t remember how long he was alone before those long arms encircled him, but he knew that Sam had held him like a work of art, a construct of fragile tissue paper and coloured cellophane. He tucked Gabriel against his broad chest and bracketed his shivering form with his knees. Big, dependable hands carded through Gabriel’s hair and steady breaths rocked him back and forth. Sam made soft hushing sounds and rubbed Gabriel’s chest, like you would a child.

‘You wanna talk about it?’ he asked gingerly, hands still in motion.

Gabriel could have easily said no, knowing that Sam wouldn’t press him - at least, not right away – and pretend he didn’t just have the angelic equivalent of a panic attack on the floor of a cheap, nasty motel room. But sometimes things simply needed to be talked out before they got any better. And to be honest, Gabriel was fed up with feeling like this.

‘Castiel...’ Gabriel dragged in a ragged breath, his vessel reacting to the strong emotions its inhabitant was experiencing. ‘Castiel brushed my…’ he paused again, regaining a normal breathing pattern. ‘my Grace. An no-’ Gabriel stopped, because he couldn’t say it out loud. He couldn’t say their names.

‘No-one’s touched it since…?’ Sam asked, more for clarification than to prompt Gabriel to finish his sentence. Gabriel nodded in assent, glad that he didn’t have to explain himself. Sam had left out their names as well. Gabriel silently said a prayer of thanks, though it was more out of habit than anything else.

There was a silence.

‘Do you think…’ Sam asked tentatively, as if his very words could break Gabriel. ‘Will you ever let someone touch you… like that?’ He finished, not really expecting an answer. He buried his face into Gabriel’s hair. Gabriel knew why he did it – Sam liked the idea of breathing in Gabriel, having him become a part of him in the simplest, purest of ways. He liked making a claim to the archangel and he liked having a claim laid to him in return. Of course, nothing was official, by either human or angel standards, but they showed it in the little things. The way that Sam rested his hand on Gabriel’s thigh when they were in diners, the way that Gabriel wiped food out of the corner of Sam’s mouth, the way that they always shared a beer glass when they drank together. With that knowledge, Gabriel wasn’t scared to give Sam his truthful answer.

‘I think I could, maybe. One day.’

Gabriel didn’t know why he made his promise sound like some far-off plan, because as the words left his lips, he extended a finger of his Grace towards Sam’s soul. He just brushed it along the Sam’s pulse of light, his sun-soaked glass jar. It was a fleeting touch, but time passed differently when souls were concerned and the force of it knocked the breath out of Sam’s body. Gabriel leaned back into Sam’s embrace, wanting physical closeness too. Slight tremors were running through him from the contact, but he felt okay. He even thought he could do it again. This time he extended a little bit more of his Grace, more of a hand than a finger, and rested it alongside Sam’s. He could feel flashes of emotion; awe, joy, confusion, hesitance, excitement, anticipation. Love. It felt right, sharing emotions like this. Gabriel didn’t fear rejection, for the first time in many, many years. Far too many. No, he could feel Sam’s sincerity right there. It was warm. It was safe. It was familiar.

It was like he was coming home.


End file.
